A Spongebob Christmas Carol
by Marzos
Summary: While cleaning out Mr. Krabs's attic on Christmas Eve, Spongebob discovers a painting of Krabs's great-great granduncle and questions his boss. What follows is the tale of Ebenezer Krabs who, after sending Spongebob Cratchit home on Christmas Eve, is confronted by the ghost of his old partner Plankton Marley and three strange visitors. Merry Christmas everyone!


A Spongebob Christmas Carol: Prologue

"Thanks for helping me clean out me attic Spongebob," Mr. Krabs said-even though it was really more like he was watching Spongebob do all the work himself. "Just move the last of me anchor collection into that box and we should be good."

"No...urrg...problem Mr. Krabs…" The fry cook wheezed, dragging the last anchor up the stairs, arms wobbling visibly like limp spaghetti noodles. With one last grunt of effort he yanked, flying across the room with the anchor. It landed on his foot and his face turned red as he held in a scream.

"SPONGEBOB!"

"It's okay...I'm...fine…"

"Not you! Me anchor!" He picked it up with ease, cradling it like a baby. "It's me favorite anchor."

"Sorry Mr. Krabs." Spongebob breathed, rubbing the toe that had swelled to the size of a baseball.

"I suppose it's alright boy...I'll let it slide. Christmas Eve and all. Still appreciate the help getting it all up in the attic."

"No problem Mr. K!" Spongebob exclaimed, praise erasing all traces of pain. "It's my early Christmas present!"

"Still getting my Christmas bonus though, ain't I?"

"I'll even give you twice as much."

"That's me boy! Clear out that box for this last anchor," he pointed to a dusty old box in the corner of the attic, "And we can get back to work."

"Aye aye Captain!" Spongebob exclaimed, saluting and getting to work. For a few minutes the sponge stayed silent as he carefully placed knickknacks in neat little piles, Mr. Krabs standing off to the side in an armchair.

"Hey Mr. Krabs, what's this?" Spongebob asked, pulling a picture frame out from the bottom of the box. The picture showed a particularly salty looking crustacean, with white hair, wearing a tophat, cane and a tailcoat. The picture looked old and faded.

"That? Hmm..." his eyes squinted, bending forward to get a better look. "Why, that's me old great-great granduncle Ebenezer Krabs! That picture's a family heirloom. Forgot I even had it."

"Wow...a real relative of Mr. Krabs!" Spongebob said, eyeing the picture up and down. "What was he like?"

"Oh...he was an odd one. Went a little crazy in his old age-that picture was taken after that."

"Really? He looks pretty normal to me."

"Believe me, from what I heard from grandad he was not. He was the only Krabs in history who was _generous_."

Spongebob couldn't hide the look of surprise on his face.

"I know me boy, it seems hard to believe, but 'tis true. He went to bed one night the cheapest krab in the family, and the next morning he was blubberin' about goodwill and practically throwing money out his windows to passerby by the bucketful...family kept away from him after that."

"What happened to him?"

"That story's been passed down generations of Krabs. Whenever they'd see him he would tell the tale. I never told ye this story?"

"No sir."

"Well then, sit down and I'll tell you the story of me good old great-great granduncle Ebenzer Krabs."

Spongebob sat on Krabs's lap. "I want to hear it! I want to hear it!"

"The _floor _me boy, stop actin' like ye got scurvy on the brain!"

Spongebob scrambled to the floor, eyes growing wide as dinner plates as he waited in anticipation.

* * *

><p>Plankton Marley was dead, to begin with; there could be no doubt about that. It was hard to tell sometimes if the diminutive creature was an old man or a raisin, he was so wrinkled, but Ebenezer Krabs double and triple checked with the coroner. He was dead as a krabby patty.<p>

People of Ye Old Bikini Bottom said that the closest thing to genuine human empathy that had crossed Krabs's face in his eighty years of life was when he returned from the funeral, standing at the door to Ye Old Krusty Krab, shoulders hunched as though he was harboring some deep pain. Perhaps, they said, it was the beginning of a conversion; maybe the death of his partner and only friend was serving as the catalyst that would finally thaw his frozen heart.

They were wrong. Krabs was not mourning his death. He was only recalling the funeral expenses. The conversion they so hoped for would not happen for another seven years.

He had never painted over the sign that said 'Ye Olde Krusty Krab and Chum Bucket'. They operated a restaurant together, and a good one at that. No one would have gone near ttwo nasty old men such as them if the food wasn't spectacular. On the particular night of Christmas Eve Krabs sat in his office, counting out the money in the little safe. One eye was leaned in close, counting the bills; the other was fixed on the porthole from which he could see his only employee. Spongebob Cratchit stood at the grille, teeth chattering, trying to warm himself by the heat of the cooking patties. He knew better than to ask for some source of heat. The last time he had it ended in him being put on probation for three weeks.

"UNCLE KRABS!" Came a thunderous voice. There was no mistaking the shrill scream and the thunderous steps, and in a moment his office door was thrown open, coins falling every which way from the vibrations. Standing in the doorway was his niece, who had to stoop to keep her whale head from hitting the top of the doorway. "Merry Christmas to you Uncle Krabs!"

"Merry Christmas?" He said, his voice tight and scratchy, "Bah! Humfish." He returned to his money counting.

"Uncle Krabs, can't you try and have a little Christmas cheer?" His niece asked.

"Cheer?" Krabs slammed shut the book where he was writing facts, figures, and budgets. "Cheer for what? The one day of year where everyone spends Christmas home with their families, and no one bothers going out to eat. What about me? What about my business, hmm?"

"You can go one day without money, Uncle Krabs. Is it not tiring to worry about it every day of the year?"

"Neptune bless me so that I may not! You're attitude, niece, is the kind that breeds poverty! Why worry about money on Christmas? Then why worry the day after Christmas? Or New Years? Soon no one is caring about money at all-ever! Your attitude is the kind that leads to economic collapse, social unrest-so _bah humfish_ to ye and your kind that spread it!" He had jabbed a bony, pale red claw in her direction. He noticed through the now open door that the stray people still out to eat on Christmas Eve were eyeing them with discomfort.

"You keep Christmas your way and I'll keep it mine." He said more quietly.

"That _attitude _is called peace and goodwill toward fish." She answered curtly. "I came to invite you to dinner tomorrow, but it sounds as though I shouldn't bother. But remember this, Uncle; tomorrow you will be sitting in your house alone and I will be enjoying a very large Christmas dinner with friends. If anyone is not being sensible, I daresay it is you!"

Without realizing Krabs could still see him, the frycook laughed softly in the other

room. Krabs took the cane he kept next to his desk, and with one swift motion rapped it against the wall; Spongebob Cratchit jumped, saw Krabs's death glare through the porthole, and bent his head back down to the grille.

"Bah humfish to you, niece," Krabs said again, "And I will enjoy my Christmas without waste, thank you very much."

She stomped back out the door, causing people to fall out of their chairs.

"Humph, these people lose their sense around the holidays...next thing you know Cratchit-"

"Mr. Krabs sir?"

Krabs looked up again from his bookkeeping. "Why ye not making the patties boy?"

"Well, it's just that...I thought maybe I could talk to you...am I coming in tomorrow sir?"

"Well, it is Christmas…"

Cratchit smiled.

"...So come in at eight thirty instead of eight."

Cratchit frowned. "But sir, it's Christmas. Can't I have the day off?"

"Are ye questioning me boy?"

"No sir! It's just, well, I worked on Christmas last year and my snail was all alone, I promised I would try and spend the day with him this year-"

"Learn not to make promises ye can't keep then."

"But sir, I just heard you say that no one comes in on Christmas."

Not able to think of a comeback at the present, Krabs simple clenched his jaw. "Well, seeing as no one else seems to have sense in this city...fine. But be even earlier the next day!"

"Thank you Mr. Krabs! Thank you!" He grabbed his stuff, getting ready to go home. On the way out the door, he couldn't help himself.

"Merry Christmas to you Mr. Krabs!"

"Get out of me site boy!" He shouted back. He settled back down to count his coins.

"Bah humfish! Rather be fried in butter," he muttered angrily, "Then hear those words spoken again in my presence."


End file.
